The knob seemed to float, drifting upward into an ever thickening pitch. It glinted, reflecting flames in the scuffed and grimy finish … like gemstones in a jewelry store choked in mud. Diamonds … like the one Jimmy promised …

The dishes in the kitchen. The sink, spattered. I needed them cleaned. He hated dirty dishes. My belly clinched. If he finds them …

“Jesus loves me, this I know …” The words deep in my throat, hidden, from a childhood long stained and misused.

I twisted the knob, crawling to the hall.

My hand hit glass, shards sliced my palm as a gasp ripped through me. The broken frame, the picture, shattered on the floor beneath the scar on the wall. “No …” I hadn’t cleaned after he threw it.

The photo shook in my trembling grasp. Disneyland. Beaming by the Matterhorn. Jimmy had been so kind. Bought me a Tinkerbell necklace. “Oh, Jimmy …” I traced his form, perfect eyes, the smile that was never there anymore.

He’d thrown it, the frame, the picture, our memories … at me. I slumped against the wainscot, kissing the image of Jimmy as my shoulders curled.

I ran bloody fingers over knotted hair. He liked me pretty for him. It was my fault. I hadn’t brushed, no make-up. He was home early. I should’ve been ready in case. “Stupid girl. Stupid! Stupid!” I hit my forehead with my palm again, again, again.

The stink of stale sweat and flowing alcohol had twisted with anger and fear.

Somehow I knew there was supposed to be more, yet hope had died.

On the tray, thread, needle, scissors …

… matches.

Nausea crippled me. He was going to see the laundry.

I’d lit one …

… and fled.

The smoke detector screamed from the hallway ceiling above.

The picture fell from my hands, lost in the growing maelstrom of fire and ash. “Jimmy, I’m sorry …” Sirens drew near. I clawed the wall and stood. “They are precious in his sight.” I faltered in the thickening gloom. “Precious in his sight,” I coughed. Could it still be true? The door, ahead.

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Stunning. Her conflicting emotions are expertly portrayed - her love bordering on worship, her fear, and her hatred of her husband, her hatred of herself that her husband has instilled in her. Her desperate attempt to hide her "wrongs" from him. "Jesus Loves Me" woven through the story, and her hope that it might be true.

Wow - for lack of a better word. This is extremely intense and very well done. It's sad to think some women probably live this kind of life, or variations of it. I found this very powerful -excellent excellent writing.

This is soooo realistic: from the emotions to the triggers of his anger being such little everyday things. You do a great job bringing to light a very dark reality, and interspersing hope into it. This is powerful writing.

Okay, Annie brings up a good point. This is sickening but it is good for us to remember that women all over suffer abuse like this every day. This is very powerful, especially to get such a negative response! Keep up the great writing!
Laury

This is stunning in its reality. If it's fact (the author actually lived this life) it's amazing how well those feelings were expressed. (To put it mildly.) If it's fiction, it's incredibly perceptive. Either way, it's absolute genius. Well done.

POWERFULLY written. You can sense her fear and confusion through her scattered, frightened thoughts. It's never easy to write about, even if you haven't experienced it personally. I can't begin to tell you how deep this touched.

wow. I think you more than nailed the topic here. There is so much emotion in your MC, it spills over into the reader with every line. The hope at the end, it's there, I think. Really descriptive writing! ^_^

This story was drastic. Wow. It takes some courage to write something that intense. The end didn't really bring closure to me. I wasn't sure if she tried to save her husband or just got out herself. Help, anyone?? Still, a very good story!

Your ability to put your readers inside the MC's head and to actually suffocate us there (as she was emotionally and physically) is awesome writing indeed! Not surprisingly, given who the author is, this piece shakes us to our toes with its stark dose of dark reality while offering that ever present but faint glimpse of light throughout. Remarkable writing!

I don't think there is anything sadder than the loss of hope. When dreams are shattered by deceit and forces we are unable to control. That is until we know true hope can never be lost. What you have written is gripping and tangible in the anquish of your MC. The message unmistakable.